A flying dream
I know I said I’d stop freaking out about my comfortable life, but I have to bring it up one more time, because I’ve finally understood what that obsession was all about. As it turns out, what it was about was, naturally, fear: fear of rejection, fear of failure. And as usual, having named the fear, I’m feeling better about it already.
I got to this because I went to Berkeley twice last week to see friends at this year’s VONA workshop, and being around all those writers intensified all the excitement and anxiety and comparisons I always feel about myself as an artist. After I left Thursday’s rousing faculty reading (if you missed Friday’s video of Staceyann Chin, I urge you to check it out), a little voice of doubt crept into my glee. I started to feel deficient. Of course this was partly my inner critic berating me for my imperfections, but I was also thinking about the fiery passion of Chin’s reading, and noticing its absence in my own work. I was feeling panicky because everyone says passion is crucial.
“Your work should be crying out to be written,” they said at VONA last year. “You’ll know what you have to write, because it won’t leave you alone until you do.” I love that in theory, but in practice I’m not sure I know what it means. There’s almost nothing in my life that grabs me this way, consistently and regularly. I can name no life-or-death constant; I live in all the places between obsession and indifference. Does this mean I can’t be an artist? Other writers have told me that art should come from the heart and from the groin. I remembered this, the morning after the VONA reading, and thought desperately, “Even sex doesn’t always come from the groin, for me — it comes from the imagination. Am I doomed? Or am I just, from some combination of genetic predisposition and conservative upbringing, really out of touch with my body?”
I was getting really agitated, thinking about all this, and I thought I should write it down. So I scribbled a quick note, and then went to wash the dishes — one of my many m.o.’s for avoiding writing when there’s something really pressing on my mind. But maybe it’s good I did, because while soaping up the plates, I remembered Ruth Forman’s “May Peace Come,” and started to think, “Why can’t passion be quiet and contemplative as well as sparking explosive?”
I think of all the artists I’ve ever compared myself to, from childhood to the present, and realize the whole practice of comparison is based on a fear that I am not enough. Art-making is all about authenticity, and yet I’ve been trying to make my experience live up to the experiences of others. My fear has told me I’m not edgy enough, not tortured enough, not ethnic enough, too ethnic, too mainstream, too weird, too quiet, too delicate, too sweet, too happy-ending and peace-loving. My fear says: No one wants to hear about my happy suburban childhood. No one wants to know what it’s like to be married to someone I love. My watercolors are too girly. My drawings are too soft. Bottom line? Everyone else is better. Every single comparison is made in the fear that if I really write and draw what I know and think about — if I really work from my authentic experience — I’ll be dismissed. It’s crazy because I believe unconditionally in the importance of everyone’s story, so my fears about my own inauthenticity are actually in opposition to my own beliefs.
I vow in this moment to stop worrying about how my work measures up to anyone else’s — to stop worrying about whether I measure up to anyone else, in art or in anything. We are all unique. (In this sense, no one else measures up to me!) As long as I am as authentically myself as I can possibly be, I am enough. And as long as my work always comes from this same place of authenticity, then it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks of it. It will be original and it will be everything it needs to be.
Yes Yes Lisa. Beautiful piece. Creativity may have to conform somewhat, to the world’s techniques of understanding ‘creativity’ and ‘art’ and ‘experts.’ We can learn from what the so-called ‘world’ or ‘culture’ has deemed ‘good’ and ‘famous’ and worthy. But it’s up to us to tread new territories and grounds. Often, there is no immediate feedback. There are lots of copiers and mimickers. They just want success, not creativity, not ‘art’ (at least my view of what “art” is), sacrificing creativity to normalization and assimilation. Rail against being assimilated!!!! The first step is to not compare, but to learn from, and then infuse OURSELVES into what is there and around and through. But that’s the hard part: what is this “self” that we must infuse? Where is it? What does it taste like? Act like? Write as?? From that fire comes that. Being ourselves in translation to a world that doesn’t know us. What is that? I love your piece!!!!!!
Thank you so much for reading, Fredrick! Yes yes to your comment too. We can learn from others but we can’t fall into thinking that their way is our way. And I absolutely love what you’ve said here: “That’s the hard part: what is this ‘self’ that we must infuse? Where is it? What does it taste like? Act like? Write as??… Being ourselves in translation to a world that doesn’t know us. What is that?” I think that’s my real lesson from watching artists like Staceyann Chin or Ruth Forman (or any other artist who touches my soul). If I admire their passion, my job then isn’t to mimic it, but to find an answering passion in myself. If my passion doesn’t look like theirs, then what does mine look like, taste like, feel like? That’s the journey. Thank you for giving me a strong way to see that. 🙂
Thanks Lisa, this is valid for all of us, we are all unique, but I hear your doubts and I think many of us have been there. We can all look ‘up’ and ‘down’ to those apparently more or less privilieged than ourselves, yet everything is relative, and the best comparisons and connections occur I think when we are just being ourselves and can transcend, particularly through our art, these differences. And thanks for opening me up to some of your world; I am continually intrigued and keen to learn more.
Thank you so much, Esther. I know I’m going to have to keep reminding myself of this affirmation, over and over again. I’m grateful for your light and presence on my journey!
Oh Lisa! I needed to read this today as much as you needed to write it. Self comparisons to the work of others has plagued me too. Sometimes it’s fueled by direct or indirect dismissals by someone else, but I’ve gotten better at outwardly dismissing them back. It’s my inner voice that’s been harder to quiet. I hope it helps to know that, if there’s a line measuring everyone’s position in life, the feeling that no one really wants to hear about the point I’m on, is something I was actually thinking about last night before I went to bed. Before trying to sleep, I decided that it was more about practice– I just needed to find the inflection of voice to make my position in the world more relatable to those who experience my writing. Not that it’s “my fault” if people aren’t interested or don’t understand, but that a lot of that reaction serves to augment my inner guide for the work– another potential avenue of approach to make it better. Sometimes, after some thought, propelling me to stay on the course I began with.
I love this : “We are all unique. (In this sense, no one else measures up to me!)” Damn straight, Girrrrrl! Very well said!
Thank you, Ré — I am so glad to hear I could speak to you across the miles on a day when we both needed the boost! I hear you on external dismissals being easier to shake off than the ones that come from within. I think it’s that it’s more straightforward to rid our minds of an individual (that condescending teacher, that well-meaning family member) than it is to confront the nebulous mass of fear that is our inner critic. I did an exercise recently where I listened to my inner critic and gave her a persona, and that was very interesting (mine is called Elisabeth and she embodies every perfection I ever hoped for, meaning she’s three inches taller than I am and much thinner, prettier, and better dressed!). After I could see her as a “person” it made it easier to tune her out, and even to have compassion for her motives!
Quiet and contemplative passion can be stronger than the explosive kind, and stay with you long after the explosion has burnt itself out. I turn away from those who say my writing ‘has’ to be a certain way, because their certainty always becomes my failure. And I spend too much time as it is seeking out ways to justify failure. I remember the first time a complete stranger complimented my fiction, and I struggled for days with that before realizing I was trying to figure out why they complimented me. It couldn’t have been for the writing! What did they want? We are our own worst enemies, as we’ve talked about before. And finally, in going down your list of all the things you list as negatives about your art, I answer in the opposite. This piece proves your passion.
Thank you so much, Lisa. I feel you on not really hearing the compliments — sometimes we get so caught up in ourselves that it’s hard to imagine anyone else can have anything purely good to say. A lot of the time I feel strong in myself, but sometimes it all just feels confusing and elusive. As with everything, it’s a balancing act and a challenge to remember the core of what I’m doing.
You are you- sufficient and whole! Period. Tell yourstory like only you can! While you have lived some, there’s more living still. You most certainly have had authentic experiences, and there’s more on the way. Trust me. Life will grow and wisen you. Moreover, it will touch you in the deep recesses of your soul, bringing things to Life, that not even you knew, existed. Give yoursel permission to speak only from the places that you inhabit, but challenge yourself to develop your art as you are affected by what Life teaches you, and what Life is trying to awaken in you. THAT, my friend, is authenticity.
Thank you, Empress! And yes, I forgot all too easily just how much I have yet to experience. 🙂 (Especially when I’m comparing myself to much older artists. I have to step away and remind myself I’m only beginning.)
Why do I feel like I’VE written this piece??
That’s how loud and clear I hear you. There’s so much I could say here, and I’m really bugged that I’m visiting your blog at 3:30 a.m (Karachi time) after busily compiling pictures for a post I plan on publishing tomorrow, but it’s late and I must sleep.
Just wanted to say I can totally relate to feeling the way it seems you do too when you say:
‘My fear has told me I’m not edgy enough, not tortured enough, not ethnic enough, too ethnic, too mainstream, too weird, too quiet, too delicate, too sweet, too happy-ending and peace-loving. My fear says: No one wants to hear about my happy suburban childhood. No one wants to know what it’s like to be married to someone I love. My watercolors are too girly. My drawings are too soft. Bottom line? Everyone else is better. Every single comparison is made in the fear that if I really write and draw what I know and think about — if I really work from my authentic experience — I’ll be dismissed’
I think I’m finally learning to accept myself and my limitations and now I’m going cut myself a break and work with what I’ve got and stop comparing myself to people I perceive as ‘better’ than me! Glad to report it feels good, even if it’s a lot of bravado 🙂
Munira, thank you! I’m so glad this spoke to you. I agree — it does feel good even if a lot of it’s bravado sometimes. 😉 Luck and strength to us both on the journey!
Wonderful piece, Lisa, and I’m sure it’s one that so many of us can relate to! I think the big takeaway I got from this past week at VONA was very similar. I am enough. I need to stop worrying about what’s happening over there, what some other writer is doing and just get down to my own work and let it speak for itself.
Good luck to us both!
~Stacie
“I need to stop worrying about what’s happening over there, what some other writer is doing and just get down to my own work and let it speak for itself.” Yes yes, Stacie! Good luck to us both indeed! 🙂
“I vow in this moment to stop worrying about how my work measures up to anyone else’s ….” you have come at this moment as a young woman and well done. Many people, and the comments show it, take years to get to this point. Be brave – break some rules.
Thank you, Alan! Learning new braveries each day, each tiny one moving me toward big boldness I hope.
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